


Muffled Screams

by noneofyourdambusiness, Perturbation12



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Actually: Warning - all the Moriyamas, Butcher Neil Josten, Exy (All For The Game), M/M, Neil Josten as Nathaniel Wesninski, Raven Neil Josten, Riko Moriyama is His Own Warning, all warnings from canon apply here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:08:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27390976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noneofyourdambusiness/pseuds/noneofyourdambusiness, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perturbation12/pseuds/Perturbation12
Summary: Nathaniel has only ever known violence. The worst of which directly from his own father. Nathaniel is told he only has worth as an asset to the Moriyamas meaning his survival lies within his compliance. However, Nathaniel’s temper can only be suppressed for so long.~~~~Excerpt:Nathaniel Abram Wesninski should have never been born. His father, Nathan, was a cruel man involved in an illegal business of sorts who wielded a sharp smile and an even sharper blade. His mother, Mary, was an icy woman who tried her best to shield her son from his father's rage, but oftentimes she was the one who ended up giving him faint bruises in an effort to keep him quiet and unnoticed. From the moment he was born, his life was destined to be one of suffering and pain.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 4
Kudos: 33





	Muffled Screams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil’s life growing up in Baltimore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A while ago, Rachel(Perturbation12) made a post asking for people to help her out with this fic and myself and a few other people volunteered to help her with it. This fic will be a three part series that we have mostly planned out. The baseline is that Nathan is much more cruel and adamant about Neil’s training(as you can see in the first chapter) and Mary fails at running away with Neil. To put it vaguely, the first part of the series will follow Neil being raised as a Raven. I will warn you, though, that we don’t have a schedule yet and we don’t know when we will have one. This is more of a teaser chapter than anything else. Tags will be added in the future so keep your eyes open for that. I hope you enjoy what we have so far! 
> 
> -noneofyourdambusiness

Nathaniel Abram Wesninski should have never been born. His father, Nathan, was a cruel man involved in an illegal business of sorts who wielded a sharp smile and an even sharper blade. His mother, Mary, was an icy woman who tried her best to shield her son from his father's rage, but oftentimes she was the one who ended up giving him faint bruises in an effort to keep him quiet and unnoticed. From the moment he was born, his life was destined to be one of suffering and pain.

Nathaniel received his first scar at the age of three. He was crying and refused to stop despite the desperate attempts his mother was making to quiet him down, so his father decided to take matters into his own hands. Nathaniel doesn’t remember much of the event, only the agony he felt as his father dragged a knife up his chest. Nathaniel promised himself to try and never cry again, and if he was unable to stop it, then never in front of his father.

He received many smaller scars from his father after that incident, but Nathan wasn’t the only one giving him scars anymore. Lola Malcolm was Nathan’s ‘assistant’ who had blood red lips and a wide, sadistic smile that matched perfectly with the wicked gleam in her eyes. Whenever Nathan wasn’t around, Lola was always far too happy to dish out Nathaniel's punishments for him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At the age of six Nathaniel Wesninski lost the skin on his right shoulder. He had twitched a little too much in the presence of the police, so his father had decided to teach him a lesson with a hot iron that he’d wrenched from his mother’s grip. This was not the first nor last lesson taught to him by Nathan or his people. His mother was not exempt from the abusive treatment that Nathan eagerly gave out and Nathaniel often found that they had matching bruises. 

Nathan loved pain; he smiled in the face of death and encouraged his young, cowardly son to do the same. However, the cries of his small child were telltale signs of the disappointments to come. Nathaniel was seven now, and Nathan made sure Lola trained the boy to use knives. Her lessons taught him how to inflict pain and to take it himself. Nathan sometimes heard Nathaniel’s screams from the garage reminding him of his failure. Lola’s lessons gave Nathaniel the training he would need to torture and kill. So ’why’, Nathan wondered, ‘was he so damn ungrateful?’ 

“You’ll soon be just like your daddy, Junior,” Lola would tell him in a sing-song voice. He didn’t want to be anything like his father. Having no choice in the matter, Nathaniel stared at the garage’s grey walls as he waited for Lola’s inevitable lessons to begin. He could still feel the cuts and bruises that decorated his skin from his previous lesson. When the lessons first began, she’d started with the basics. Lola spread out an array of differently shaped knives and told him what each and every one of them were called. She would then point at the different knives and ask him to produce their names, and if he got one of them wrong, she would ruthlessly add another scar to his collection. 

Once her first lesson was engraved into his brain, she started to teach him about the differences in the blades' shapes and their purpose. She once again quizzed him afterwards on what each of them did, and just like before, she cut him open whenever he answered wrong. Luckily for Nathaniel, though, he was a quick learner. This system continued on until Nathaniel could recognize a blade and its abilities with a glance. 

After he had learned the basics of wielding a knife, Nathan gave him a pet rabbit called Morire. Nathaniel made the mistake of not questioning the purchase of Morire, and had bonded quickly with the animal. They spent the times outside of Lola’s lessons together and Morire provided him with comfort. However, it was quickly revealed that Nathaniel was expected to kill his precious friend in one of Lola’s lessons. His reluctance and hesitation had cost him greatly and added to his growing collection of scars, not to mention the life of his only friend. He could hear Lola’s taunting voice as his vision blurred

Morire had been his first experience with cutting up flesh. With this Lola ensured he had the fundamental knowledge of what was needed for wielding a blade stamped into Nathaniel’s mind. He knew how to hold each knife properly, where to aim when you wanted to kill someone and where to aim when you wanted someone to suffer.

Once he was satisfyingly proficient with knives, Lola built up on Nathaniel’s natural talents. She showed him how to use his small size as an advantage and helped him discover the benefit of his speed. She also added new skills to his list, like fighting without a weapon and shooting a gun. The day that Nathaniel first touched a gun was also the day he received his first bullet wound. Lola had decided to switch up her punishment methods with a gunshot instead of her usual fists and knives. Nathaniel’s mother was furious since a gunshot wound had a higher chance of killing him than fists or knives did, but Lola got away with it under the excuse that it was partially to teach him how to deal with a bullet wound, or in her words ‘toughen him up a little’.

The bullet incident caused the start of his mother’s lessons. Her lessons were different, not the kind of lessons Lola was teaching him, which always ended up with his skin being painted purple and red, but rather strategic ones that were just as dangerous, if not more so. His mother taught him how to analyse a person's behavior to find out their fears and desires. She also taught him how to slip into sheep’s clothing to appear harmless and invisible. “It is far better to be underestimated than overestimated. Remember this, Abram, because it could very well save your life one day.”

Nathaniel didn’t like his lessons with Lola. She was a cruel person who always smiled down at him as she dragged a knife through his skin. His mother always had to clean his cuts and stitch him back together afterwards, while trying her best to comfort him, but comfort wasn’t Mary’s strong suit. Not to mention Nathaniel’s growing hatred and fear towards knives which had been effectively cultivated by Lola in their lessons. Mary’s lessons were much more helpful in Nathaniel’s opinion; he learned the art of manipulation and how to appeal to people’s interests. In the example of his father, Mary taught her young son that following directions to avoid punishment was necessary, but did not mean she was submissive and accepting of his rule. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two years passed after the death of Morire, every day doing little to deviate from the last. During that time, Nathaneil started to play little league exy far away from Baltimore under the name Abram so he wouldn’t be recognized. His mother took him but they were always accompanied by Nathan’s henchmen. This arrangement did not last long due to his demanding lessons from Lola. Outside of exy, Nathaniel learned to be silent and still in the presence of his father, and also learned how to hide his emotions from Lola’s prying eyes with an expertise he hadn’t had before. His mother’s lessons helped a lot in that regard. However, this did little to protect him from their wrath, and he still received new injuries frequently. To his own horror he learned to use a knife extremely efficiently, and also learned the basic ways to fight with a gun and his fists. Lola taught him the art of torture, demonstrating on small animals and sometimes on Nathaniel himself. Soon he was able to create pain with minimal effort. 

Nathaniel hated knives. They were something used to hurt him. Something used to make him scream and beg and unravel at the seams. They were a constant reminder of his father and Lola, and of all the pain that he was forced to endure during his very short life. Nathaniel thought that by complying with his father’s wishes to train with Lola, he would suffer far less. And in a way he was right. But in a way he was very, very wrong.

Five days after Nathaniel’s ninth birthday, Lola came into the garage to inform him that he was to come with her to the basement. His confusion and curiosity must’ve shown somewhere on his face, because she gave him that blood red smile of hers and told him that he was going to be moving on to bigger prey. He followed Lola into the basement, a place he was never allowed to enter. That didn’t mean that he had never gotten a glance at the room before. The basement was where his father spent most of his time. It was a single large room with grey brick walls. The room was usually empty when he peeked in but this time, Nathaniel found a scarring sight in the center of the room. 

The walls were made out of stone and had an industrial sink built into the far wall. The floor was slanted and had a conveniently placed drain in the center of it. Above the drain was a rectangular table with a man strapped to it. Nathaniel didn’t recognize the man, but next to the man was a small table with an array of knives on it, and his father standing right next to it. 

When Looking back at that memory, Nathaniel doesn't remember the moments leading up to his father picking up one of the knives and digging it into that man's skin. He remembers not wanting to see Nathan torture that man on the table, but Lola was there holding him still and forcing him to watch. He doesn’t remember what it was that Lola was whispering into his ears or the questions that his father was asking; all he remembers is the man screaming and begging, and that desperate, unforgettable look in his eyes as Nathan took him apart bit by bit. Nathaniel doesn’t remember how he got up the stairs and to his mother. All he did remember was heaving into the toilet, tears streaming down his face while his mother stood behind him, a comforting presence without words. He felt sick for several days afterwards. His first experience with torture was jarring and draining. He was not excited to see what Lola and his father had planned for him next. His dreams that night were consumed with pained screams and terrified eyes. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

From that point on Lola’s lessons moved completely into the basement. Each lesson brought a new horror, and the sight of his father carving someone up soon became familiar. If Nathaniel hated Lola’s lessons before, now he despised them. The screams of each of the victims stayed cemented in Nathaniel’s head. He was trapped in that room with no way to escape. Three weeks into these new lessons, Nathaniel was told to bring his knife set with him. Lola’s smile took on a different, more malicious glint when she saw what he carried. As she led Nathaneil into the basement that day she spoke four horrifying words. “Junior’s all grown up.” Peeking ahead of them, he wasn’t sure what had changed. 

The woman who had been restrained on the murder table was one Nathaniel would never be able to forget. Her left eye was already blackened and her lip split. When his father noticed his presence he smiled that awful smile and Nathaniel thought he knew what was about to happen. Lola turned to him smiling, and said, “Well? Go ahead and get started. This one’s all yours.” Nathaniel froze. That wasn’t supposed to happen. The blood drained from his face as he realized what they wanted him to do.

Nathaniel remembers everything about her. He remembers her sun kissed face that had an old scar running through one eyebrow. Her short, chocolate brown hair and light green eyes that would have been beautiful if it wasn’t for the terror that filled them. Killing her meant he would become a little bit more like the monster that he so desperately feared and hated. It would mean losing a part of himself that he could never get back. His father knew that. Each scream and plea that tumbled out of her mouth tore Nathaniel's soul apart, piece by piece, until all that was left were shreds and a feeling of guilt and horror from the blood that will forever stain his hands.

The green eyed woman’s torture seemed to stretch on for hours. Nathaniel did as he was told, using everything he’d learned from Lola as if he was in a trance. His mind felt numb, but his hands continued regardless. The woman’s screams were muffled by her gag and the buzzing in Nathaniel’s ears. No one was near enough to hear the woman’s cries for the pain to end. Nathan called for Nathaniel to stop long enough so he could draw the necessary information out of the woman’s battered body. And then, without hesitation, he ordered Nathaniel to kill her. Nathaniel froze for the second time that day, his eyes slightly widening. His father wanted to make him a murderer at the age of nine. Nathan’s voice took on an angry tone “Kill her, we don’t have all day.” Nathaniel clutched his knife doing his best not to shake as he brought the knife to the woman’s exposed throat and dragged it through both of her carotid arteries. Nathaniel could see the pain and relief in the woman’s eyes as she rapidly lost blood. When he tried to look away he felt his father’s hand grip and wrench his head back into place. He watched as the woman’s stunning green eyes became lifeless. He heard his father laugh. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After his father dismissed him, he left the basement in a state of shock. He headed straight to the bathroom to wash the blood from his hands, and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. There was blood that had splashed onto his face, onto the face he’d received from his father. His eyes began to tear up, the result of a mixture of fear and hatred. He hadn’t cried in years and had promised himself he wouldn’t. He turned to the toilet and vomited, disgusted by what looked back at him in the mirror. Realizing he still had blood on his hands, he began to tremble. He flipped on the sink and began vigorously scrubbing the blood away from his hands and arms shaking uncontrollably. He avoided looking in the mirror, focussing all his attention on his hands. The water ran red with the blood of a nameless woman. A woman who he had murdered. Nathaniel scrubbed harder at his skin, he could still feel the phantom blood tainting him. Tears finally fell from his eyes. “I’m sorry.” He whispered so quietly he could barely hear himself. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Nathaniel’s mother had found him in the bathroom, scrubbing the skin of his hands raw, his face brownish with dried blood, and whispering something unintelligible under his breath. She wasn’t sure what had happened, but she knew if her husband were to find him like this, they would be punished. She concluded that Lola had probably moved his lessons onto human subjects, and decided to take action. Grabbing Nathaniel’s wrist in a bruising grip was not enough to gain his full attention. So she turned off the sink and wheeled the small child around to face her. “Nathaniel,” his mother addressed him, receiving an alarming lack of response. She lowered her voice to just above a whisper. “Abram.” She tried again, this time Nathaniel saw her, recognizing the importance of the name that his mother had given him. The name which his mother gave meaning to. The name that grounded his racing thoughts for at least a moment. The name that separated him from his father. His tears stopped and dried as he stood there in the bathroom just breathing.

“She’s dead.” Nathaniel said after a moment as if he was testing out the words. “She’s dead,” He said again pausing before continuing, “and I killed her.” He said, voice less shaky but still quiet. He looked to his mother for a reaction, her face was unsympathetic, only her presence being comforting.

“It’s best if you move on from this,” She said after a moment. 

That night Nathaniel was plagued by nightmares of the woman who’s name he still did not know. Her blood leaking from the ceiling and onto Nathaniel’s hands “You did this.” The woman said, pointing her finger at him, her green eyes lifeless. “You don’t even know my name.” Her broken screams filled his head. Nathaniel tried to deny it but his bloody knife was there in his hands. He woke with a start. What his mother had said about moving on was proving to be very difficult. Her face couldn’t blend itself in with his father’s other victims. He was the one that had taken her apart. He would have to work hard to hide this guilt from his father, and Lola. Frequently interrupted sleep caused Nathaniel to feel groggy the next morning. Despite this, he still got out of bed and completed his morning routine as he did every morning, trying to forget the previous day’s events. His lesson with Lola that day had been canceled due to a meeting she was required to attend with Nathan, most likely linked to the nameless woman. Nathaniel shivered as he thought about her once again.

Nathaniel was not required to murder any more people after that. However, his father encouraged Lola to take Nathaniel down to the basement whenever he had a person in need of torturing. He began to teach Nathaniel how to assist him in torturing someone. This occurrence became much more frequent, and Nathaniel would hand his father knives and other tools used for tourture. Occasionally, he would be asked for an opinion on the method of tourture. Nathan would address the topic like a casual preference of clothing, but instead of pants or shorts he would ask teeth or nails. This forced Nathaniel to actively participate in the tourture, and as much as he hated to admit it, it was a very effective teaching method. Nathaniel knew what inflicted the most pain, and if he tried to go easy on the victim, he would be punished immediately by a hovering Lola. 

The year continued on like this, his father’s victims seemed never ending, and Nathaniel became a lot better at hiding the mental strain tourture and murder put on his young mind. He began to develop his father’s smile, which terrified him. Nathaniel was still haunted by the victims’ screams, and the nameless faces that all accused him of murder, in one way or another, while he slept. He felt sick everytime he thought of them. He hid his emotions behind a wall, and started getting used to the sight of blood and the sounds of screams, and eventually, the feeling of sickness started to fade and was replaced by a cold detachment. His lessons with Lola were luckily canceled after each kill because of the meetings she had with Nathan. Things settled into a routine and Nathaniel found that if he tried hard enough, he could convince himself that he was fine.

Eventually, his fear and hatred of knives started to dwindle, and in its place was a feeling of comfort and safety. His knives were gradually becoming a reminder not of pain, but of protection. He could defend himself from his father’s harsh punishment with the knowledge of the blades he held. A reminder that he has claws, and he can fight and defend himself when need be. His knives stopped being a reminder of his father and started to become his. Lola didn’t anticipate what kind of monster she had created. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The night Nathaniel turned ten was just like any other night. His father didn’t surprise him with knives and he had only a brief meeting with Lola until he had inevitably done something wrong and been punished. He felt sore and bruised but was used to the pain that constantly followed him. The next day when he went to meet Lola for their lesson, he was informed that she was out at a meeting with his father so Romero, her brother, would be stepping in for her. Nathaniel rarely interacted with Romero, but was still aware that he was just as brutal as Lola. During their lesson, Nathaniel worked on his aim with throwing knives, and every time he missed, Romero would drag his knife across his skin. So far, he had missed three times out of twenty. As he was lining up his arm for a twenty first throw, Lola came in and called Nathaniel over with a single word. 

“Come,” she ordered with no explanation. Nathaniel followed her into his father’s office. As they approached the door Nathaniel started to tense. His father only allowed him into the office when he was angry. Nathaniel was left completely unprepared for what lurked inside. This was no set up for torture. In fact, this seemed to be a completely blood free meeting between his father and another man he didn’t recognise. 

“Nathaniel, you will play exy for this man.” Nathan’s tone left no room for argument not that Nathaniel wanted to argue. He liked playing exy in the little league team and would gladly try out. “You will speak to him only when spoken to. Your tryout is in a week.” His father said bluntly. Nathaniel guessed that if the man across from his father had not ordered Nathan to tell Nathaniel, he would not have been told. Nathaniel felt a burst of unexpected excitement at the prospect of playing exy again. He carefully held his apathetic mask in place. They both looked at him as if they expected him to say something.

“Yes sir.” He responded obediently with a nod of his head in their direction. He was unsure of who to direct his words at. “You are dismissed.” His father said, seemingly satisfied.

Nathaniel always enjoyed playing exy. Whenever he picked up a racquet everything else seemed to fade away. He stopped being Nathaniel Wesninski and became just another boy that played the sport. He could almost pretend that he was a normal kid. The week leading up to the tryout Nathaniel’s lessons were cut down for him to practice outside wearing his old exy gear. His father and Lola didn’t carve anything new into his skin that week, but they had no problem with littering his skin with purple and blue whenever their tempers snapped.

Finally, the day of his tryouts arrived. Nathaniel was nervous, but he made sure that none of it was able to show through his mask of cold indifference. Nathaniel prepared himself to spend a few hours enclosed in a car with both of his parents and Lola. The car ride was filled with silence, only interrupted once when his father received a phone call. The conversation his father had caused his mother’s face to pale considerably. Nathaniel didn't understand what had happened, but the change in his mother’s complexion had his hackles rising.

The drive lasted until an imposing college with a large black exy stadium made its way into view. It was probably supposed to be intimidating, but Nathaniel felt a surge of dark excitement wash through him. The car stopped near the stadium. Nathaniel took in his surroundings while he trailed his father and Lola out of the car, his mother keeping pace beside him. The man from his father's office opened the door, obviously expecting them. “Welcome to the nest,” the man said. Nathaniel took one last look at the sky before he fixed his gaze back onto the doorway, and entered the darkness of the nest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to everyone who responded ~noneofyourdamnbusiness, kuroiji and dizzycam~ thank you and sorry about all this mess.  
> -Rachel
> 
> If you’ve enjoyed the first chapter or if you have any questions, we would love it if you left a comment!
> 
> Note: I'm thinking that future chapters are gonna be shorter because that's a lot to read all at once.


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